Gravity's Hold
by Klimmatt
Summary: Kid Flash has slipped through the cracks of the universe. Stan Pines has opened a rift. Two worlds collide.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** So, after a long hiatus, I've decided to clear out my hard-drive of a few fics, much like this one. Fair warning, this one in particular is unlikely to get a continuation. I'm leaving it listed as 'Incomplete' as part of a vain hope that inspiration will strike, and, who knows? Maybe after the Gravity Fall's finale it will. For now, just enjoy.

* * *

Suddenly he was airborne... for all of a second, maybe. Then he crashed into the packed dirt that made up the ground.

Oh, he hurt. He very much hurt.

His body was... something beyond exhausted. He'd never gone that fast before. A small part of him wondered if he ever would again.

And now he was bruised and lying in the dirt. Ooh, tired muscled worked carefully to lift him from the ground. Slowly pulling away his goggles, the cracked lenses rendering them useless, he finally got a decent look at his new surroundings.

It was dark, probably underground. Lit only by the dying light of the closing portal behind him. The decor was vaguely 'mad scientisty', combining the natural contours of the cave with the high tech components of the lab. It kind of reminded him of the Bat Cave.

And he wasn't the only one there.

An old man. Broad shoulders, glasses and a slight hunch. He was dressed in his underwear and a fez. He was also aiming a shotgun in Wally's direction. Wally really wished he hadn't seen weirder sights.

"Now you're a strange one," the man said gruffly. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Rubbing at his head as he struggled unsteadily to his feet, Wally answered as best he could. "The North Pole. I don't... I was running and there was this rift and I-"

"North Pole?" The man grunted. "What, are you one of Santa's elves? Is _he_ real, too?"

"What? Elves?" Wally frowned. "No, dude, I'm Kid Flash."

"You're a kid what-now?" He looked disturbed. "See, now that's just _wrong_."

"Dude, seriously?" Wally scowled. It'd been a while since anyone had gone _there_. "I'm Kid Flash. _The_ Kid Flash?"

"Whatever," the man waved him off. "You come from the North Pole, then? With the ice and snow and whatnot?"

"Yeah," Wally turned to give the machine a better look. "You build this? Is this Zeta-beam tech?"

"Zeta-what?" Suddenly he seemed interested. "What'd you call it?"

"...Zeta-beams? Teleportation technology?" Wally clarified, thinking maybe the dude was a little off his rocker. "Do you work with the League? You know this tech is restricted, right?"

"Restricted?" He frowned. "Kid, the government doesn't even know this stuff _exists_. How could they restrict it?"

"What are you talking about?" Wally matched his expression. " _Everyone_ knows the League has Zeta-beam tech."

"What League?" He cocked the gun, his expression turning severe. "Are you with those Blind Eye nutjobs?"

"The hell? Dude, the _Justice_ League. Duh."

"Justice League?" He repeated. "Sounds like something outta one of Mabel's cartoons. You sure you're not just crazy, kid?"

Wally quirked his brow, "Could say the same thing about you, old man."

That got a shrug. "Fair point. I don't know anything about 'Zeta-beams' and I ain't never heard of no Justice League, I can tell you that much."

"And the portal?"

He shrugged again. "My brother built it for some sciencey geek reason, but he got sucked in. I've been trying to figure out how to bring him back ever since. So far you're the only thing I've seen come out of it."

"Okay," Wally frowned. "Then... where are we?"

"Gravity Falls, Oregon," he answered proudly. "Weirdest town in all of America. They _have_ an America where you come from, right?"

"Dude, I'm from Missouri, not Mars," Wally scowled. Gravity Falls? "So, what's it a portal too?"

"I'm not sure," the man sighed. "Other worlds, maybe? My brother left his notes behind, but I've been trying to make sense of them for thirty years."

"Other worlds?" Wally felt a sinking in his gut. His mind flashed to the most recognizable names of his world. Some point of reference. "And if I said the names 'Superman', 'Batman', 'Flash'...?"

"I'd ask you if you're listing sideshow attractions," he grunted, before turning thoughtful. "'Superman' sounds a little Third Reich for me, but a Human Bat might bring in the crowds..."

"Okay, theory time," Wally raised his hands in surrender. "Mind lowering the gun first?"

He shrugged, doing as he was asked. He lowered the barrel, but he didn't release his grip on the stock. "Let's hear it."

"Before I showed up here, I was resonating at a frequency that-" the man held up his hand to stop him.

"You lost me," he told him bluntly. "Try again, this time with less nerd words."

Wally sighed. "I was... I might have slipped through the cracks of the dimensional walls that separate alternate realities. That _should_ have wiped me from existence, but if you opened a hole in reality at the same time, I would have been sucked through like air through a vacuum."

"Then... you're from an alternate world?" The gun was being raised again.

"Almost definitely," Wally ignored the gun. If he fired, Wally could dodge the spray, no problem. He turned to examine the portal generator again. "Still, better here than limbo. This world isn't an apocalyptic wasteland, is it?"

"Huh? No! Of course not. What kind of world do _you_ come from?"

"Eh, a pretty normal one, I guess," Wally shrugged, moving over to examine the switch that dominated the center of the room. "So, is this the 'On' switch, or what?"

"Kid, I've been working on this thing for thirty years and even I barely understand it," he gestured vaguely to the console. "If it weren't for Ford's notes, I wouldn't even know what I was doing."

Wally grinned, "So we can send me back?"

"Kid, I don't even know how you _got_ here."

"Eh," Wally waved him off. "I'm a pretty smart guy. Let me take a look at the guy's notes and I'm sure I can work things out."

"Really?" The man seemed doubtful, but rubbed at his stubbled chin with interest. "How smart are we talking here? Clever smart? Genius smart? _Super-_ genius smart?"

Wally grinned. "I just need a look at the notes."

The man gestured towards the console, "Be my guest, kid."

Wally walked over to the console to get a look at the notes and was surprised to find a trio of journals arranged in an inverted triangle, upon which were what looked to be the blueprints for the machine. His grin slowly faded to a frown.

"Yeah, definitely gonna need some time for this," Wally sighed. It'd take some time, maybe even a few weeks, but he should be able to work all this out. He was lucky, actually. He'd gone into that vortex not expecting to come back, but now here he was, alive and well and with a way home. All he had to do was figure it out.

"You really think you can work this thing?" There was a tinge of something in the old man's voice. Hope?

"I don't see why not," Wally shrugged. "Might take me a while, but it's just a matter of time."

"In that case, kid, I've got a spare bedroom you can use while you're here," he held out a hand to shake, lowering the gun for real this time. "The name's Stan Pines. Welcome to the Mystery Shack."

Wally grabbed the offered hand and shook with a grin. "Thanks, man."

* * *

There were a few brief ground rules to cover as Stan led Wally back up to the main house.

"First thing's first," he explained. "You don't tell _anyone_ about what's down in the basement. Capiche?"

"Dude, who'm I gonna tell?" Wally almost laughed. Aside from Stan, he knew _nobody_ in this world.

"I'm getting to that," Stan cocked his gun suddenly. "My grand-niece and nephew are staying with me for the summer. You so much as look at'em funny and I'll..."

"Message received, loud and clear," Wally raised his arms to placate the older man. Stan nodded stiffly in response.

"I've got some old clothes you can borrow," he offered. "At least until we can get you fixed up with something other than that... _thing_ that you're wearing now. What's the deal with that, anyway?"

"It's a, uh, uniform," Wally answered. It was technically true. "Back in my reality, I'm a part of a peacekeeping organization. Or, I was. I'd been taking some time off lately before this whole mess got started."

Stan nodded, accepting the answer. There would be a time later when he would get the full details, but that time would not be at half past one in the morning. Sleep first.

"Okay," Stan tilted his head thoughtfully. "When the kids ask, we'll say you're my nephew on my ex-wife's side. Just visiting."

"Got it Uncle Stan," Wally smirked. "Just here for a week or two before I get back to seeing the sights."

"Yeah," Stan seemed somewhat displeased by the moniker. "And what're we gonna call you, kid? I don't know about your world, but 'Kid Flash' ain't much of a name here on this one."

"You can call me..." Wally hesitated, uncertain for the moment, then shrugged. "You can call me Wally. Wally, uh... what was your ex-wife's name?"

"Martinez," Stan admitted with a smirk. "Beautiful woman, not that the kids know that. But you don't really look the part for a name like that."

"Crock then," Wally decided. It was a different world, so he could afford to not be quite so careful with his identity. But there was a difference between that and spilling his guts to every stranger he met. If he was giving up 'West' for the time being, this at least would keep Artemis fresh in his mind. "Wally Crock."

* * *

The room Stan showed him was well furnished and open, with just enough personal touches to tell Wally it belonged to someone particular rather than being a spare bed as Stan had claimed. Wally wondered if it belonged to the brother Stan had mentioned. The one who'd disappeared into the portal downstairs.

Stan left him to his own devices, quick to leave the room Wally had been shown and only returning briefly with a pair of black pants that would be loose around his waist and a shirt that would hang from his shoulders. Stan was much broader than his young guest and Wally would have to get himself something that fit first thing in the morning.

For the moment he stripped himself of the Kid Flash uniform, briefly considering where to put it before shrugging and draping it over the armrest of the couch that dominated the far wall. Stan already knew of it and if any of Stan's other guests barged in, Wally could claim it was simply a costume of some kind. Wally would much prefer having it in sight as he slept rather than tucking it away in some dark and unseen corner.

It was childish, perhaps, but seeing the Flash's insignia had helped him sleep soundly since he was six years old. Having his uniform in view would be a comfort given the stress of the day.

His body told him it was only late afternoon, as it had been when he hit the vortex, but his eyes told him otherwise after a quick glance out the window. Late at night, possibly even very early morning. It was just as well that he was exhausted.

He slipped into the bed with some discomfort. The bed felt old and unused and the mattress was lumpy and the sheets hadn't been changed in who knew how long. More than that, it was empty. Wally had been having trouble sleeping ever since Artemis had left on the Tigress mission. Wasn't that ironic? Today was the day that Artemis was to return home, and now it was him sleeping in a bed too far from their own.

That was a sobering thought. He wondered how Artemis was doing. Did she think he was dead? She'd have to. Going into that vortex, he certainly hadn't thought he'd come out alive. He'd done all of the calculations when he'd made his way to the Arctic. Stan's portal was a fluke that could not have been predicted.

So... Artemis thought he was dead. He wondered if it would be her or Barry that told his parents. Barry... Dick, Kaldur, everyone...

Man, he hoped they didn't do anything drastic before he got back. It would be a pain in the ass having to explain to the government that no, despite what they'd been told, he wasn't _actually_ dead just yet.

These were the thoughts that consumed him until the demand for sleep encompassed his body.

The sleep he reached was fitful and plagued by dreams of the mourning friends he'd left behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** So, as I post this, I just want to make it clear that this fic is written and posted pretty much as inspiration strikes and as much fun as it is, it just isn't a priority for me right now. That means that there is no guarantee that it will get much of a continuation, but enjoy whatever comes because I certainly had fun writing it.

* * *

Dipper Pines was a restless kid. His mind was constantly active, filled with thoughts of conspiracies and the Journals. Because of this, what little sleep he was able to get was often fitful and filled with nightmares. The nightmares themselves were a jumbled mess, made up of nonsense and horrors. The only constant was the mysterious triangular being known only as 'Bill'...

Mabel was quite the opposite. She was energetic to the extreme and she very much loved it that way. But energy was not so easily come by, and thus she had two valuable pieces of advice for anyone who cared to ask her her secrets.

The first was, simply, sleep. Lots of it. Mabel was surprisingly early to bed, but even earlier to rise. Where her brother's dreams were filled with Bill Cipher, hers' were filled with kittens, candy, and Xyler and Craz.

The second secret to her energy was Mabel Juice. Again with the caveat; 'lots of it'.

Since Mabel Juice was an unholy combination of sugar, caffeine and plastic dinosaur toys, any doctor in the world would be quick to forbid it, just as her parents had. Fortunately Mabel didn't know any doctors here in Gravity Falls, a tidbit which deeply troubled Dipper, and her parents were several states away. So in the Mystery Shack, if nowhere else, Mabel Juice was given the chance to do its work.

So there she was, using a stool to reach the blender on the counter as she added in her ingredients. It was only seven in the morning, and she still wore her nightdress. A bowl had already been filled with chocolate-frosted 'fruity' sugar cereal and the T.V. was already tuned to cartoons... Mabel Juice was the final ingredient to her healthy start to the day.

And then in walked the Stranger.

'The Stranger' deserved capitalization, at least in Mabel's narration, due to the fact that he was, quite simply, _strange_. And Mabel didn't have anything else to call him.

Mabel's first thought was that he must be a visitor... except for the fact that Grunkle Stan _never_ had visitors. Or maybe a customer who'd walked into the wrong part of the house... but it was too early for that.

Then Mabel finally had the chance to look at him. _Really_ look at him. Her Mabel Juice was beginning to overflow from the blender, but she still took the time to take in every detail.

Tall - well everyone was tall compared to her (except _Dipper._ Alpha _Twin_!). Red hair. Green eyes. Freckles. Broad shoulders. _Muscles?_ Hubba _handsome_.

A little drool began to pool at her lips.

The Stranger blinked, as surprised to have seen her as she was to see him. "Uh, hi? You must be, uh, Mabel, right?"

Mabel blinked. Sucking up the drool before it could drop, she began to nod vigorously. "Yes. Definitely. _Absolutely_. Mabel. Is my name... is Mabel."

A few moments of powerful hormones overriding her brain and Mabel was finally able to recognize the fact that this was a stranger in her home. One that knew her name. And if it couldn't be a visitor or an addled customer...

She screamed a mighty war cry. Tossing the blender aside and leaping for the ground, she immediately dug into the cupboard under the sink, where she kept her emergency glitter supply and her back-up grappling hook.

"Reach for the sky, Beautiful Stranger!" She threw a fistful of sparkle dust in his general direction and aimed the grappling hook at his chest.

The glitter fell short, doing little besides prettying up the kitchen table. Then Mabel realized that her grappling hook was missing its hook.

She and the Stranger shared an uncomfortable moment of silence as this fact dawned on them.

"One moment please," Mabel asked, holding up a single finger. The Stranger kindly obliged her.

"I knew there was something I was forgetting yesterday," she mumbled to herself as she awkwardly reached back into the cupboard to try fumble for the hook. All the while the Stranger stood in the doorway, utterly incapable of moving out due to the sheer surreality of the situation.

He'd had kids point guns of various types at him before. That was an unfortunate reality of the job. But never before had they tried to use glitter on him. Well, except for the Trickster, but he was technically an adult so Wally wasn't really sure if he counted...

His confusion allowed Mabel to refit her grappling hook and aim it at him once again

"Who are you?" She demanded, the fire back into her performance. "Are you with the gnomes? Do you work for Li'l Gideon? _Are you single?_ "

Wally blinked. "Am I _what_?"

" _Answer the question!_ "

"I'm, uh..." Wally wasn't really sure which question to answer. Or how to answer. Did she say _gnomes_?

"Who's making a racket and tryin' to wake me up?" Grunkle Stan stumbled into the room, still in his underwear and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He paused when he saw what was waiting for him.

"Evil Handsome Stranger!" Mabel pointed accusingly at the redhead. Wally shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Knew I should've woken'em up."

Taking a deep breath, Stan was quick to make introductions. "You can put down the weapon honey. Wally here is mostly harmless. He's a guest."

Mabel glanced at her great uncle uncertainly, then pointed the weapon at him. "Nice try, evil shapeshifting thingy, but Grunkle Stan doesn't _have_ guests!"

"Jeesh," Stan rolled his eyes. "I let you stay, didn't I? Calm down before I rethink that decision and toss you and your brother out on the street."

There was an immediate shift in Mabel's demeanor. Dropping her weapon, she cried, "Grunkle Stan, it really _is_ you! You have other guests?!"

"I can do whatever I want," Stan asserted childishly. "Wally here is a nephew on my ex-wife's side. Showed up last night looking for a place to crash for a few weeks. Bad breakup. He was up half the night crying. Needs to reconnect with nature and rediscover himself, so I offered him the spare bedroom and he offered to work for his keep."

Mabel turned to Wally, as if looking for confirmation. Wally, who had been watching Stan lie his ass off (and with a few embellishments that they had not agreed on) with some mild horror, started when he realized he was being looked to and could only nod unconvincingly in agreement.

Fortunately for Wally, Mabel was most certainly _not_ the suspicious twin.

Unfortunately for Wally, Mabel _was_ the matchmaking twin.

Breakup? Broken heart? Hot guy? All thoughts of violence and suspicion left her like the tide as one immutable impulse flowed through her.

"You need a rebound crush!" She declared, pointing her finger at Wally with all the totalitarian authority of a twelve year old.

And then she was off, out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She needed to get to work.

Wally immediately turned to the octogenarian who strode up to the counter and calmly sipped from the blender, only to wince in revulsion at the taste.

"Son of a biscuit but that is terrible," he muttered, eyeing the concoction warily, as if the dinosaurs might take offense and attack him. Returning the blender to the counter, he noticed Wally was still staring. "What? It tastes like diabetes, but it sure as hell wakes you up in the morning."

Wally crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow.

"What? The break-up thing?" Stan asked, giving Wally little more reaction than a dismissive wave. "It's just something shiny to keep her busy. She'll be too busy try'na find you a girlfriend that she won't give a damn about who you are or where ya come come from."

Wally raised an eyebrow.

Stan took another sip of Mabel Juice. "You're welcome."

"Whatever," Wally did his best to move past the weirdness of the Pines family dynamic. Taking a step towards the door, he added. "I'm gonna head downstairs and get to work on the portal."

Stan held out a hand and grabbed Wally lightly by the shoulder.

"No you're not," the old man told him plainly. "Basement stuff is for after hours only. When the kids are awake, we've got other things to deal with... first of which is gonna be getting you some clothes."

Wally looked down at what he was wearing. The shirt and pants Stan had loaned him, with the sleeves rolled up and the belt as tight as it would go. And no shoes either. His toes wiggled against the cold tile floor under his inspection.

Stan passed him a credit card, though the look on his face made it clear that doing so was physically painful for him.

"Head into town and grab a few things before Dipper wonders why you don't have any luggage," he ordered. "When you get back, I'll put you to work around the shack. I wasn't kidding about you earning your keep, kid."

Wally eyed the credit card, his expression ambiguous. As much as he wanted to be working on his way home, he couldn't really argue with doing it Stan's way if he wanted to stay here.

He reached out and grabbed the card, tucking it into a pocket with a mumbled 'Thanks'.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," he promised. "Which way's the nearest town?"

"Follow the roads, but don't worry about it," Stan shrugged. "I'll drive ya, but we'd best be quick about it- huh?"

Stan froze when he realized that he was talking to empty air. He'd blinked and Wally had been gone.

He looked to the Mabel Juice critically, wondering if it had affected him more than he'd thought. Then he took another swig anyway.

"I _knew_ that kid was gonna be weird."

* * *

Wally came across the town of Gravity Falls and immediately decided that his first stop would have to be shoes. The dirt road from Stan's place had not been kind on his bare feet, and the tarmac and concrete of the urban areas weren't doing many favors either.

The mall was the place to be and, after a few odd looks, a forged signature and what may have been a quiet call for the police, he'd charged a few hundred dollars to Stan's credit card and gotten himself a top of the line pair of sneakers.

Jeans were next. Stan's pants had a dangerous tendency to slip and the belt was already as tight as it would go. He settled for a single pair, doubting that he'd be around long enough to need more than the one, but added a pair of shorts, a couple of T-shirts and two plaid button-ups just so that he'd blend in with the lumberfolk.

A few more quick stops for underwear, socks, toothbrush and various other essentials and he tossed all of his purchases into a newly acquired olive green duffel bag. Stan was maybe a thousand dollars poorer, all told, but Wally believed the old man when he said that Wally'd be earning his keep, so he didn't exactly feel too bad about it.

The shopping itself was a quick and relatively painless thing. It was only the last store that gave him any real trouble.

It was summer, but the temperature was mild and almost everyone he saw was dressed for moderate weather. So when he saw the forest green jacket in the window that reminded him ever so slightly of Artemis, he decided to buy it on impulse. Just in case.

The store wasn't much different from any other, aesthetically speaking. It had had the same vaguely outdoorsman feel to it, only this place had more of a focus on style rather than function. Not usually Wally's thing, but he liked the look of the jacket and he probably didn't want anything too warm anyway.

He grabbed it, checked the fit, and then whistled happily to himself as he took it to the dark-skinned guy folding shirts at the counter.

Looking through the door at the back, Wally could see what he guessed was another employee taking stock out the back while he chatted with someone out of sight.

Wally smiled and nodded as the clerk took the jacket and rang it up, reciting the price offhanded and smiling as Wally passed him the credit card.

Then he frowned. His eyes went from the card to Wally, then back to the card again.

"Uh, one second," he said uncertainly, before turning to the door behind him. "Hey, Wendy! Isn't Stanford Pines your boss's name?"

"Yeah?" A young woman's voice answered, followed quickly by the girl herself appearing at the door. "Why? Did he call?"

Wally winced when his fellow redhead appeared, particularly when the guy at the counter held up the credit card for her inspection. Her eyes zeroed in on the name of the cardholder, and then narrowed as they zeroed in on him.

"Why do you have Stan's credit card?" She asked, her eyes glaring into him. "Nate, call security."

"Already on it," Nate promised, reaching for the phone.

"Or you could just call Stan?" Wally offered, smiling genially as he held out his hand to shake. "He loaned me the card. I'm Wally. His nephew."

"His nephew goes by 'Dipper'," Wendy crossed her arms, utterly unimpressed. "Which I now totally understand, by the way. He's also twelve years old."

Behind her, Nate's coworker had finally emerged from the stock room. An incredibly tall youth who towered over Wally by half a head.

"I'm a different nephew," Wally told her, his voice perfectly calm. "On his ex-wife's side. Just got into town last night."

"I'm sure."

"Seriously," Wally insisted, a little fear clear in his voice. An arrest where he had no identification, no _identity_ , would be a very bad thing. "You can just call Stan right now and he'll clear everything up for you."

"Oh, of course," Wendy's sarcasm was palpable. Nate had just gotten through to security and the giant was moving around the counter. "And, what was his phone number again?"

Wally smiled weakly. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you that I'd lost my phone?"

"Hmm, let me think about that for just a sec," Wendy put a finger to her chin, deep in thought. "Hmm... no."

"Yeah," Wally eyed the giant, now standing next to him just to emphasize the height difference between them. "I didn't think so."

The giant was taller, but he was also thin as a reed. Wally shoved the jacket into his arms and ran.

As you might be aware, Wally was quite good at running.


End file.
